


Homestead

by FifteenDozenTimes



Series: Homestead [3]
Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Babies, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Series, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please allow me to finish before you employ human sarcasm at me, Sparks Nevada. The purpose of the ritual was to determine who would inform you that we intend to enter into an official agreement of reciprocal onus by performing a partnership ritual. As I won, it is my job to inform you, which I have just done.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homestead

**Author's Note:**

> I have just entirely too many feelings about these space morons.
> 
> Set post-#220 Marshal on Mars and does contain spoilers for the finale.
> 
> All of my thanks and love to [epershand](http://archiveofourown.org/users/epershand/pseuds/epershand) for making the appropriate encouraging noises when I shoved this in her face every five minutes to read ten new words I added. Also for betaing, and for cookies. Mostly the cookies.

Stuff with Ginny - not with Ginny, with that one Jupiter spy’s cousin, or whatever, who somethin’ like two years ago infiltrated the Troubleshooters, made nice with Harriet, seduced Sparks using tricks like insulting his nose and bein’ awesome, used Jupiterian wiles to confuse him into stayin’ on Mars so Earth would be free for whatever nonsense plan whoever hired the Jupiterians came up with - ended...weird. Obviously.

The trouble with your wife revealing she never actually existed, she was just an incredibly impressive ruse - her words - at your wedding in front of all your closest friends is all your closest friends are right there for the most humiliating thing to ever happen to you. One of ‘em might even helpfully point out it’s indeed the first most humiliating thing to ever happen to you, and then make sure to tell the story of the formerly-first now-second most humiliating. One of your friends might as well be designated Croach the Salter of Wounds, because whoever’s doin’ that job in his tribe right now can’t possibly be as good at it.

So Sparks had to do what any not-quite-middle-aged man who’s been left, publicly, in such a fashion as to render the happiest several months of his life a lie, publicly, would have to do: go back home.

Not to his parents’ house, of course. Because he has to have some dignity, not because his dad made it pretty clear he wasn’t entirely welcome. Yes, they own the building, and yes, he is now working for them as a building manager because a grown man works for his room and board. Because a grown man’s parents can’t give him an inch and just let him stay in one of their condos rent-free because that’s what parents do, sometimes, in these sorts of situations.

Sparks is doing just fine. Obviously.

*

“Sparks Nevada, your quarters are pleasing to six of my senses.”

Sparks starts to say thanks, then does a quick mental calculation and frowns. “They’re not that bad.”

“They are perfectly adequate, Sparks Nevada. I am not counting my olfactory senses, as I am obviously unable to use them at this distance.”

“Reckon. Er, Croach, did you call me for a reason, or just to check out my place?”

“That _is_ a reason, Sparks Nevada, but I have called for a different one. I have won the ritual of C’oi’n T’ahss against the Red Plains Rider.”

“Congratulations, buddy.”

“Please allow me to finish before you employ human sarcasm at me, Sparks Nevada. The purpose of the ritual was to determine who would inform you that we intend to enter into an official agreement of reciprocal onus by performing a partnership ritual. As I won, it is my job to inform you, which I have just done.”

“Oh! Well that’s - wow. Congratulations! But for real this time.”

“The Red Plains Rider thought I would be unable to impart this news with the necessary sensitivity and consideration for your feelings after your humiliation at the hands of the Jupiter spy so few cycles ago, but I believe her to have worried in vain.”

“Thanks for bringin’ that up, Croach.”

“Living on Earth has made you more sarcastic than usual, Sparks Nevada.”

“I don’t think so, I think living with Red has made you better at catching it.”

“It has improved me in many areas, but I believe you are mistaken. I have often refused to humor you when you get emotional, and you have often believed - wrongly - that I must lack the ability to recognize those emotions. Much of your onus comes from underestimating me.”

“I have work to do, Croach, so now that you’ve told me the good news and I’ve apparently increased my onus, I think I’d best be going.”

“One more thing, Sparks Nevada. I am not the sort of being who would, without explanation, fail to honor the being who has ridden by my side for more than one human decade with an invitation to perform the duties of the superior male.”

“Not the sort to get _emotional_ about it, either.”

“Of course, I do not get emotional about anything. As I was saying, I would not dishonor a friend in such a way, as I am not Lirkt the Cold-Hearted. However, I trust you remember why I objected to The Red Plains Rider agreeing to perform the duties of superior female at your own failed wedding?”

Sparks has made a pretty serious effort to stop rememberin’ most details of that day, so no, he doesn’t, but Croach has brought it up enough now to put Sparks in a foul mood for the rest of the day and he ain’t much in the mood for more reminiscing.

“Yep, sure do.”

“Good. Then you will understand why I have chosen to designate Gvarn the Respectful of Boundaries as my superior male.”

“But you just said - “

“I will allow you to return to your work now, Sparks Nevada.”

The screen goes black, and Sparks frowns. Either Croach’s gotten more inscrutable than ever, or being away from home - from Mars, he is home - so long has messed up his ability to...scrute. A previous version of Sparks would blame it on Croach. Current Sparks hasn’t made up his mind yet.

He’s...growing.

*

“Croach thinks he upset you.”

“He said I get emotional.”

“And that upset you, Nevada? He might have a point.”

“No, I meant, he thinks I, the very picture of stoicism, get emotional, so he’s not really a reliable judge.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I ain’t upset, I just kind of thought he would - he gave this whole speech about - it’d be nice to be asked, is all.”

“I told him not to bring it up.”

“Because...wait, are you about to ask?”

“Ask _what_ , Nevada? I’m sayin’ I told him not to mention your weddin’, which he says he did. A lot.”

“Oh! No, I’m not - I mean, yeah, he did. Like, every chance he got. You should not have let him call me.”

“I know that, but he beat me at C’oi’n T’ahss fair’n’square. And he was excited about tellin’ you, Nevada, it was sweet.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, given that you ran off to Earth just so no one’d bring up the whole mess, I figured you probably didn’t handle him bringin’ up the whole mess too well.”

“It’s been, what, like, two whole months? Reckon I’m just about over it by now.”

“Sure.” 

Red’s much easier to read than Croach, always has been, and he knows she doesn’t believe him, but if she’s happy to pretend to he’s happy to play dumb. 

“Make sure he knows he’s not under any onus to me or nothin’. I’m sure he knows already, but...y’know. You didn’t need to check up on me.”

“Yeah, I did. I wanted to call you anyway, Nevada, I actually did wanna ask you somethin’.”

They’re gonna get married at the saloon, probably, and all his friends’ll be in their wedding, probably, and Techs’ll officiate, probably, and she’s gonna ask him now if all that’s okay, and then about a hundred times between now and the wedding, and he’ll have to say okay every time, and she won’t believe him today because it won’t be true today, but probably by whenever they get hitched it’ll be true enough for both of ‘em.

“Croach got to you first, I reckon, but on the off chance he was too busy bringin’ up painful memories to take his shot, I was wonderin’ if you might like to be my superior female?”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely. I will be the most superior - er.”

“Male, sorry. I’m used to talkin’ about it in Croach’s tongue, and it doesn’t leave much room for genderin’ stuff.”

“And it kinda makes you sound like you’re hackin’ up a space hairball. But yeah, yes, I’ll be your superior whatever you wanna call it, totally.”

“Goodbye, Nevada.”

*

Sparks always feels kinda filthy after he teleports, like instead of polluting the atmosphere of whatever planets he’s going between it all just gathers on his skin and clothes. He’d like to sneak off somewhere, find a shower, straighten himself out, maybe grab a drink (at O’Toole’s, even though he ain’t much in the mood for a fight) before he starts dealin’ with people, but he’d made the mistake of giving the wrong arrival time to two people who know him better than anyone.

“Sparks Nevada, you look terrible. Have you become infested with parasites since we last spoke?”

“Thanks, Croach. Good to see you, too.”

“He ain’t got parasites, just heartache.”

“ _No_ , I just didn’t eat enough before I beamed here, and it took a lot out of me.”

“Teleportation does not - “ Croach starts, but Red aims a pointed look at him and he shuts right up. Handy trick. Sparks might’ve cavorted with Croach himself a few times if he knew that was a benefit.

Sparks is probably more disoriented from the trip than he thought.

“We’ve got plenty to eat at the house, if’n you can handle the ride.” Sparks don’t like the way she looks at him while she offers, but if she’s gonna be nice to him - believe him, because he’s telling the truth, transportin’ on an empty stomach does always mess him up a little - he’s not fixin’ to argue. 

Red and Croach keep shooting each other looks on the way to the hitching post, trying so hard not to look back at Sparks he’d know what they were not-talkin’ about even if it weren’t obvious. This is exactly what he didn’t want to have to deal with, and it’s kinda unfair to him that two people been dancin’ around each other as long as those two couldn’t wait until he wouldn’t have to. Inconsiderate, is what it is.

“This oughta cheer you up, Nevada,” Red says, and he’s about to argue again that he’s not upset, just hungry, but she steps aside and he forgets to.

“Mercury!”

Following the spy he’d married back to Jupiter by way of pretty much every occupied rock between here and there woulda been too much for his aging horse, and the properties he’s taking care of on Earth don’t have much room to roam, and Red’d been taking care of him so long at that point it just made sense to let her keep right on. 

“Whinny!”

“What?”

“Come on, Nevada, lunch is waiting.”

*

“You promised you would speak to him.”

“Well, he’s sleepin’ now, so it’ll have to wait.”

“I have emulated the sound of air escaping the single human esophageal tract - “

“I know what a sigh is, Croach.”

Sparks wasn’t quite asleep anymore but wasn’t really awake yet, either. He’d dreamed about fighting, a good ol’ fashioned brawl in the line of duty, and Red and Croach going at it seems like it might just be an echo of it that’ll fade out when he wakes up.

“We both seen him depressed, Croach. I ain’t sure what this here is, but at least it ain’t that. You wanna make it worse?”

“I do not wish to hurt Sparks Nevada, The Red Plains Rider. I merely do not wish to invite him into our marriage.”

Red laughs like she didn’t mean to, a sharp crack escaping out of her mouth before she can stop it. Sparks must be awake now, at least enough not to still be hearin’ dream voices. No way he coulda dreamed that noise.

“Do not mock me.”

“That wasn’t - Croach, maybe you wanna re-word that?”

“I do not.”

“You don’t think you’re exaggeratin’ just a little bit?”

“No.”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“You appear to be talking just fine.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, then a door slams somewhere down the hall. Sparks closes his eyes, like that’d prove he hadn’t been listening in.

*

The next time he wakes up, he’s a little less groggy, mostly because when he opens his eyes Red’s just leaning against the wall, reading something, and it absolutely does not make him jump but it does wake him up a bit abruptly.

“Good, now we can talk and you can stop wreckin’ my marriage before it even starts.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to fulfill my marital duties if I can’t, it turns out? And marry Croach if I bite the dust first.”

“I - what?”

Red sighs, like he’s being difficult on purpose, like she didn’t just ambush him half-awake with a bunch of nonsense.

“Croach didn’t want you to be part of the ritual, not officially. And I figured it’s just ‘cause he’s still upset at you about - er. Anyway, turns out he’s ornery on account of all these rules about your marital duties. Or, my marital duties. Or both, sort of. So I’m supposed to talk you out of it, so he doesn’t have to worry every time I’m out ridin’ the plains I’ll get shot down and you’ll have to be the new Mrs. Croach.”

“Okay? I don’t have to - “

“But here’s the thing, Nevada. I get why you high-tailed it out of our lives, and I ain’t gonna tell you how stupid I think that is ‘cause you got a right to handle your feelings however you choose. But I’m fixin’ to take every opportunity I got to force you back into our lives, because you’re an important part of ‘em, and if I can force the guy who got me through the worst parts of my life to stand up and get me on to the best, I’m damn sure gonna. So I guess this is the choice I’m giving you: be my best man, make me awful happy, and deal with Croach bein’ a little ornery at you for a bit, or back out, make Croach happy, and put me into a righteous fury the likes of which you ain’t ever seen.”

“That’s not a choice and you know it.”

Red grins, and Sparks settles in to hear more nice stuff about himself, but she just stands up, winks, and strides out the door hollerin’ to Croach, “Sorry, but he’s diggin’ in his spurs about this. You know how he gets!”

*

Sparks has wandered into enough rooms to find Croach folded up on whatever in that room ain’t designed to be sat on, it shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but he’d kind of assumed in a place where Croach picked out probably a good half of the furniture he’d be more likely to sit in a chair sometimes. But nope, he’s up on the patio table, legs crossed around the umbrella, lookin’ entirely more comfortable than he can possibly be.

“I am meditating, Sparks Nevada.”

“Sorry, thought I might drink my coffee out here. I can - “

“You can stay, if you promise not to disturb me.”

“I can try.”

Croach doesn’t respond, which probably means he’s okay with that arrangement, since he usually ain’t shy about telling Sparks what he’s done wrong. Sparks pulls out a chair and rotates it a bit so he doesn’t have to take his coffee with a side of Croach’s knee in his face, and does an admirable job of not talking while he sips it.

“Did you have an adequate sleep? You are the first person to use that bed.”

“If I answer, ain’t I disturbin’ you?”

Croach opens his eyes, and Sparks could swear he _smirks_ , somethin’ that looks oddly natural on his usually expressionless face.

“I have meditated enough for the time being.”

“Then yeah, I slept okay.”

“Good.”

“The Red Plains Rider says that since I am fortunate enough to develop emotions now, when I can learn from her mistakes, I should learn to be open about them early on.”

“I think you’ve been doin’ fine.”

“That is because you do not possess that skill.”

Sparks opens his mouth to argue, but maybe at this particular moment he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He takes another swig of coffee instead.

“Sparks Nevada, you are not a valid choice for superior anything. The role is about committing to people you care about, and I do not believe you are capable of that.”

“I - whoa.”

“You lost the position of Marshal, and abandoned me, leaving me unable to complete my onus. You buried me miles away from anything I knew and left. You left me when I was fertilized - “

“You were the one that left!”

“I may have been the one to put physical space between us but you were the one who was not present . I told you how important you were to me at your wedding, and you left once again, and you did not return.”

“I had a lot of stuff goin’ on right then, Croach.”

“I did not want you to leave.”

Croach ain’t looking in Sparks’ direction anymore, which makes that last bit hit harder than maybe it usually would. Sparks could argue all of those, he always had a good reason, and it ain’t like Croach never left him. He could argue the _point_ of it all, that he never made any promises, that Croach ain’t who he’d likely make any promises _to_ , but he just looks at Croach and how tense he’s gotten, and stays shut up.

“The Red Plains Rider does not understand the difference between the way she leaves and the way you leave. I am not certain I could explain it to her, because she believes you will always come back, the way she does.”

“I do come back, though. I’m here right now.”

“You come back to your badge, you come back when you are obligated and you rejoice when that obligation is removed. You come back to The Red Plains Rider, but do you come back to _me_ , Sparks Nevada?”

“I - probably? I ain’t even sure what you mean by that.”

“That is what I expected.” 

Croach climbs down from the table and strides back indoors. Sparks ain’t sure whether he should follow him or not; he picks not, ‘cause he ain’t sure he wants to keep having this conversation. 

This is an entirely different “ornery” than he was expecting.

*

Sparks has been in a few weddings other than the obvious one, so he’s expecting to have a little bit more to do than sit around and practice sayin’ _yes_ and _I will_ in Croach’s language in a way that doesn’t make Red laugh at him or Croach look like he might throw up from disgust.

That’s pretty much it, though, and when they get sick of him not quite gettin’ it and storm off, he gets to spend the rest of his days riding Mercury around, or wandering downtown without lookin’ at Jiminy’s saloon or the gelato stand or the hardware store or the boarding house. He runs into Felton and Wendy once, grits his teeth into a smile that turns genuine the longer Felton keeps starting questions he apparently ain’t supposed to. Wendy’s elbow is apparently the one force on the planet that can stop Felton in his tracks.

“Sorry, Marsh - ow. Er. Sparks. Sorry, Sparks, Red - ow! Marshal Red, that is, made us promise not to - ow, dang it, what was wrong with that?”

There’s a little over a week before the wedding, and Sparks just about gets used to being back. He never makes it into the saloon, but he didn’t really expect to.

Still, it’s nice to be back.

*

The partnership ritual ain’t at the saloon, obviously, and most of the people Sparks doesn’t want to deal with don’t come. Martians, at least the one’s Sparks’s run into in his time, are awful attached to tradition for beings that don’t do feelings, and part of this particular ritual is a long hike up a nasty mountain to get to the right spot. Martian wedding parties tend to be pretty small, as a result.

Croach’s moms - the primary progenitor that bore him and the, uh, the fertilizer - are there, of course, and Red’s caretaker, who was old when he took her in and is downright decrepit today, but still beating Sparks and his nanotech-free legs up the trail. Barlok the Wise is leading them, someone-or-other the Performer of Rituals right behind, and Croach’s superior male Gvarn is keepin’ his distance.

Red and Croach bring up the rear with Sparks, pretending like they couldn’t run up to the plateau, back down, and up one more time in the time it’s taking him. They probably could’ve warned him he wouldn’t be allowed to ride, but whatever.

Croach still ain’t really talkin’ to him, which is probably better than the alternative if he’s just gonna be all weird about it, but he did help fix the weird linen thing Sparks’s gotta wear for the ritual once Red threw up her hands and insisted it was impossible. Sparks feels like an idiot in it, this thing that ain’t exactly a dress but ain’t entirely not one, but Croach is wearing a more elaborate version of the same thing and doesn’t look half as ridiculous as he probably should.

“Almost there, Nevada.”

“Oh, are we? That’s nice. I could walk another ten miles, though, that would be fun.”

“You are not supposed to be talking,” Croach says, and flushes light purple when one of his moms shoots him a silencing look. Whoops.

The plateau is beautiful, once Sparks catches his breath enough to appreciate it. He maybe gets why early Martians chose this place, why the modern Martians keep using it. 

It’s a more emotional ceremony than Sparks was expecting, maybe just ‘cause Red looks like she’s about to burst the whole time, or ‘cause Croach looks like he might just keel over dead from the force of all his hoping finally bein’ satisfied. 

Their parents tuck a few herbs and flowers into the plain headbands they’re both wearin’; Red told him what they meant but he forgot, and Barlok explainin’ in Martian ain’t exactly helpful. Barlok says somethin’ that makes everyone but Sparks laugh, and the Perfomer of Rituals takes over.

Gvarn says his _yes_ and his _I will_ s, and Sparks doesn’t laugh when Red rolls her eyes. He says his own, doesn’t mispronounce ‘em too badly, at least not badly enough to offend anyone or get laughed at. Annoyed as he is at Sparks right now, Croach still smiles at him, wide and watery, when he finishes.

Ain’t no use pretending he doesn’t tear up a little when they kiss and it’s finally official.

*

“You are leaving?”

“Yeah? Wedding’s over, that’s what I came for.”

Croach doesn’t say anything for long enough Sparks assumes he’s left until he turns around to grab something off the dresser and Croach is still there, in the doorway, just watching.

“Was there, uh, do you need something?”

“You should leave.”

“Yeah? That’s what I’m doing, so.”

“Good. You should.”

“Good, ‘cause I am.”

“And you should not come back.”

“Good, I - what?”

“This time, Sparks Nevada, when you leave, you should not come back.”

Croach is gone, the door closed behind him, before Sparks can come up with a response. Well, fine, then. 

*

Earth always feels small after Sparks spends time on Mars, the buildings too tall, too easy to get from one side of the planet to the other and back again. Spendin’ a few evenings out in some mostly-unsettled desert or another usually helps, but even so he feels weird in his skin, too wild and rangy for his own home.

He settles, mostly, back into the routine of working for his parents. Too many people with too many stupid complaints, more and stupider problems than when he was marshalin’, but it ain’t the worst thing in the world. He eats awkward dinners with his parents once a week, and that ain’t the worst thing in the world either. He goes on three dates, once with a woman his mom sets him up with (it’s terrible, because his mother doesn’t understand him at all), twice with women he meets in bars (they’re terrible, ‘cause Sparks might not really understand himself at all). 

It’s takin’ him longer to readjust than usual, but he gets used to the itch under his skin. He talks to Red pretty regularly, doesn’t talk to Croach at all, and doesn’t think too hard about any of it. This is his life now, and it doesn’t need to be great, just needs to be somethin’ he can live with.

*

“You have any idea how easy it is to fertilize a denizen of G’loot Praktaw?”

“Gross, and yes. Sort of.”

“We were just _talkin’_ about it, like maybe it’s somethin’ we should start thinkin’ about.”

“I really don’t need details.”

“I guess Nah Nohtek makes it easier?”

“I feel like you’re leadin’ up to givin’ me the details I just said not to?”

Red laughs. “You get all red when I talk about this stuff.”

“Yeah, well. Uh, so, congratulations.”

“Thanks! I’m excited.”

“You look excited.”

“I’m terrified.”

“You’ll be fine, Red. You both will, you’ll be great parents. And Croach’s - he’s looked forward to this, a lot. He must be thrilled.”

“I think he’s waiting to make sure I’m happy about it before he gets too excited.”

Sparks absolutely doesn’t feel guilty about that, because why should he? Red’s watching him like she’s expecting him to, though, and that ain’t fair at all.

“So how you gonna handle the job?”

“I actually wanted to ask you about that. Croach ain’t gonna be up to bein’ my deputy, at least for a bit, and I’d like to have someone to share the work with. Can’t be just anyone, though.”

“You, uh, talked to Croach about this?”

“He didn’t mean it, Nevada, you just hurt his feelings.”

He ain’t about to feel guilty for that, either. Ain’t his fault Croach hasn’t figured out havin’ feelings enough to know not everything’s Sparks’ fault.

“I ain’t fixin’ to move back.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to. Just for a couple months, until Croach lays his eggs and we can settle into a rhythm.”

“Gross.”

“I’m takin’ that as a yes,” Red says, and hangs up before he can argue anymore. 

*

Sparks winds up more at a loss than he expected when he finally touches down at the spaceport. Not so much from bein’ on Mars again as from what happened when he told his parents he’d be taking a few months off to come back again.

He doesn’t have a job or an apartment on Earth anymore, and that won’t be too much of a problem, but he spent an awfully tense trip over havin’ to wrap his head around the fact that he’s hit bottom so hard and been there so long his parents ain’t prepared to be a safety net anymore.

He’s pushin’ forty and shouldn’t really expect it, but it’s still uncomfortable to not have it anymore. Their offer to send him off on a USSA ship that happened to be passing Mars sort of felt like bein’ pushed out of the nest, and he hadn’t even gotten used to thinkin’ of himself as back in.

Sparks is walkin’ into the saloon before he really realizes what he’s doing; old habits, apparently.

“The saloon doors are op - oh! Oh! Hello Sparks!”

“AI. You sound chipper.”

“My sweetie and I just moved in together.”

“How does that even - okay.”

“Now if this ain’t the very definition of trouble in my place.”

“I ain’t never ‘caused you trouble.”

Jiminy laughs, loud and disbelieving, and then for real.

“When I heard you were here and didn’t bother to stop in, I figured I’d never see you again. How you holdin’ up?”

“I have on very good authority Red threatened anyone who asked me that.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Just gimme a space rotgut.”

“It really is good to see you,” Jiminy says, and gets to pourin’.

*

Red and Croach’s place ain’t big, but it ain’t small either, and it’s easy enough to stay out of Croach’s way. He leaves before Red in the morning, comes home after dark, tries to respect Croach’s wishes.

Red calls him an idiot, more than a few times, but for once he ain’t sure she knows what she’s talkin’ about.

Marshalin’ with Red fits him like his robot fists, settles over him and gets rid of that itch under his skin and the nagging feeling he wasn’t actually living his life right. He gets their paperwork in order, rides Mercury hard and fast all over the place takin’ down robot outlaws, starts to feel like nothing’s really changed. 

Then Croach starts getting sick. Dizzy, first, Red apparently got home to find him on the kitchen floor, waiting patiently for the room to stop spinning so he can get up and eat. Nauseous, a few days later, and within a couple weeks he ain’t gettin’ out of bed unless it’s strictly necessary.

“He is the first denizen of G’loot Praktaw to be fertilized by a human,” M’lek the Healer tells Red while Sparks hovers in the hall, totally calm and not at all freaking out. “It is hard to predict what will happen. These symptoms do not appear to be cause for alarm, but you should not leave him alone for long. I will check in from time to time, G’rop N’go-goth.”

M’lek doesn’t look at Sparks when he leaves. Which is fine, he ain’t part of this.

“You do not need to stay with me, The Red Plains Rider. I can care for myself.”

“Don’t be stupid. The whole reason Nevada’s here is so I can be ready for stuff like this.”

So Sparks is Marshal on his own for a while. Somethin’ he did fine before he ever met Red, or Croach, and can totally do just fine again. It ain’ t lonely, it’s...restive. Good to be able to do things his own way.

“I’m goin’ crazy,” Red says, quiet even though Croach is sleeping. “I need to get outta this house.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine for a bit if you wanna go for a ride or somethin’.”

“Can you just stay for a couple days? Let me be the Marshal?”

“I don’t think he’d - “

“He’ll love it, know why?”

Red does look a little bit crazed; Sparks knows better than to put up much of a fight when her eyes get like this.

“Why?”

“’Cause you were my superior male, and it’s your _duty_ to step in when I can’t, and he will just _love_ knowin’ you’re honorin’ your commitment to tradition.”

“You really need this, don’t you?”

“Please, Nevada.”

“Alright. Don’t get mad when he’s upset about it, though.”

*

“You supposed to be walkin’ around?”

“Yes. And you do not need to watch so closely, you will know if I fall. I am feeling better, though.”

“That’s good.”

Croach lowers himself slowly onto a patio chair. Must not be entirely himself again, not climbin’ up on the table or sittin’ on the ground.

“I am under onus to you for staying with me. The Red Plains Rider was unhappy.”

“You know onus don’t matter to me.”

“It matters to me, Sparks Nevada, I do not understand why you will not accept that.”

“Sorry.”

“I am choosing to believe you mean that.”

“Good?”

“The Red Plains Rider has suggested I may have been unfair to you, on occasion.”

Sparks looks up from the stack of arrest reports Red brought him to work on. Croach is watching him, brows furrowed a little, like he’s genuinely worried what Sparks might say. He ain’t figured out how to talk to Croach when he ain’t lookin’ for a fight, but he’s got a few ideas how not to.

“I’m not sure she’s right,” Sparks says, after a long pause. It’s probably the first really honest thing he’s said in a year, at least. “I think you’re just doin’ Martian-honest instead of human-honest.”

“Perhaps that is what she believes to be unfair.”

“Maybe.”

Croach smiles, a little, looks off at the horizon. Sparks goes back to the arrest reports, gets through three before Croach speaks again.

“I am glad you came back, Sparks Nevada.”

*

Red trades off shifts with Sparks, spendin’ days at the Marshal station when she get stir-crazy and days home when she gets too worried about Croach to leave. 

Sparks finds himself looking forward to the days he wakes up to Croach duty; he ain’t good at acknowledging his mistakes, and that means he ain’t any good at dealing with ‘em, but it’s like a little regret shifts out of him every time he brings Croach an ice pack for his forehead or cooks him lunch to his weird standards.

Croach gets steadier, healthier, as his nanotech adjusts to the half-human lives inside him, but for reasons neither one of ‘em can articulate, he doesn’t stop asking for help, and Sparks doesn’t stop giving it, and at some point it stops feeling like penance and starts feeling...different. Better.

*

“Nevada, you should come home right now.”

Sparks is up and out the door before he really thinks about it; he’s a half-mile from the station when he realizes Red called him there and if he wants more details he needs to call back.

“Idiot.”

“Sorry. What’s going on? Croach okay?”

“He’s fine, he’s layin’ his eggs. Our eggs.”

“Gross.”

“Nevada.”

“It’s a little gross.”

“Just get here.”

Sparks pushes Mercury harder than is probably necessary, rides fast enough he doesn’t have to worry about whether they really want him there, whether _Croach_ really wants him there, whether he’s butting in where he ain’t supposed to.

Red’s in the backyard, practically vibrating. She grabs Sparks’ arm and holds on for dear life, glances at him with a grateful smile before goin’ back to watching Croach. He’s right at the edge of the property line, naked as far as Sparks can tell, diggin’ a hole beneath a pair of scrubby cactoids.

“Shouldn’t we be helping him?”

“Apparently not.”

“Should the doc be here? In case anythin’ goes weird?” Croach finishes digging, squats over the hole, and his...ovipositor pops out. “Weirder?”

“He can get here in a hurry if we need him. It’s a little weird to have anyone but family around for this.”

Red tightens her grip a little, just for a second, and Sparks doesn’t bother to ask whether she’s sure she really wants him here.

Sparks can’t quite look away from Croach, groanin’ loud enough to carry clear across the planet. He’s shiny with sweat, flushed purple from the strain, and even grittin’ his teeth against what must be kinda painful he looks happier than Sparks has ever seen him.

“Nevada?”

“Hm?”

Red’s gone quiet, hushed with awe or anxiety or probably some mix of both. He aint’t never seen her quite so focused on anything.

“What if they’re Jupiter babies?”

Oh jeez. “They ain’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I was there last time, Red, and I promise, this ain’t nothin’ like that.”

Croach straightens up, wobbles a little as he covers up the little nest with dirt and packs it down. He makes his way over to them on shaky legs, kisses Red sloppy, but sweet. Sparks should leave them to it, but Red’s still got his arm and he ain’t sure how she’d take him pulling away.

“I need to go lie down,” Croach says, kisses Red one more time. He clumsily pats Sparks’ shoulder on the way by, and Red finally lets go of him.

“What now?”

“I guess you can go back to work,” she says. “And in a couple weeks, you get to meet our baby.”

*

“You awake, Nevada?”

Red’s so quiet he almost can’t hear her over the creak of his bedroom door opening.

“Mostly.”

“Could I - this is real stupid, but Croach just molted.”

“Gross.”

“It ain’t gross, it’s nice. Feels a bit less like cuddlin’ with a, well, with an exoskeleton for a week or two.”

“Okay? Why did I need to be awake for this.”

“Well I wanted to ask - like I said, it’s real stupid, it’s just, right after he sheds he’s too sensitive to touch, and I tend to roll around a lot in my sleep and I wind up hurtin’ him or he has to keep wakin’ me up ‘cause he’s afraid I’m _about_ to hurt him, and I was just gonna bunk on the couch, but I think I mighta lost my knack for sleeping alone, at least as long as there’re other options.”

Sparks’ brain fuzzes a little around being an “option”, not quite sure where to grip onto it, but he knows Red better than just about anyone else and he knows she doesn’t ask for things if they ain’t important to her. 

“C’mon,” he says, and he’s just lifting up the blanket in front of him so she can be the little spoon like she used to do back when they were doing everything they could that wasn’t thinkin’ about Croach. Instead she slides in behind him, rests her arm on his waist and tucks her face in so close to the back of his neck he’s not sure she can breathe okay.

Must be how she’s used to sleeping with Croach.

Sparks is close enough to sleep he doesn’t bother to chase away the thought, just closes his eyes again and lets his brain run off with it as he drifts off, wrapped up in the warmth of Red and blankets and his own thoughts.

And then Red snores, once, loud, right in his ear, and he ain’t accustomed enough to sharing his bed to be used to that sort of thing. He startled awake, and his brain zeroes right in, crystal clear, on the last thing he was apparently thinkin’ about - this, except in Red and Croach’s larger bed, and Croach is in the mix, too, and it’s - it’d probably be even nicer that way.

Sparks is comfier than he can remember being, at least for the last little while, and he’s thinkin’ about taking a place in his best friends’ bed, and _smiling_ about it, apparently, and any day now their alpha baby, or whatever, is gonna dig its way out of the nest, and Sparks never, ever wants to leave this place.

He should probably get back to Earth. Home. Tomorrow, tomorrow he’ll get out of here before he gets himself into trouble.

*

“You are leaving again?” 

This is exactly what Sparks hoped to avoid by waking up in the middle of the night to pack in secret. He can’t get a handle on where his head’s at so he ain’t exactly itchin’ to get interrogated by Croach.

“Feel like I might be gettin’ in the way.”

“You cannot possibly believe that.”

“I believe all sorts of stupid stuff,” Sparks says, waits for Croach to zero in on the word ‘stupid’ as proof he’s right and Sparks is, as always, wrong. 

“The Red Plains Rider suggested there is an action I could take to prevent you leaving when I do not wish you to,” is what he says, instead. “And that I am as ‘yellow-bellied’ as you if I do not try it, although I have seen your belly and it is not yellow, nor is mine.”

“It means cowardly, Croach. Red called me yellow-bellied?”

“Several times.”

“Well that ain’t - I ain’t - “ Sparks sighs. “What is it you’re supposed to do?”

“I would like for you to stay, Sparks Nevada.”

Sparks had been half-expecting Croach to try and hogtie him, or shoot him in the leg or somethin’. This is...different.

“I wish for you to remain on G'loot Praktaw, more specifically in this house, with us. I believe your presence is good for The Red Plains Rider, and will be good for the youngling. And...I enjoy having you around.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Sparks can’t really think of an answer for that, still ain’t used to a Croach that’s determined to talk to him instead of against him. He starts pulling shirts back out of his suitcase.

“Alright, since you asked nice.”

“I appreciate it, Sparks Nevada. Thank you.”

Croach is halfway back to his room before Sparks realized he didn’t even bother invoking onus or anything. 

*

It ain’t all that unusual for Sparks to wake up to Red or Croach out in the yard, sittin’ by the nest and drinkin’ coffee, or readin’, or just talkin’ to the eggs. Red stops asking for details of the first time Croach gave birth after a week or so, either ‘cause she stops worrying or wants Sparks to think she has. 

“It ever bother you?” he asks one morning, when Croach comes back inside from his morning bonding time. “That there’s six eggs in there and only one lives?”

“I would not want to raise six younglings at once,” Croach says.

“Obviously. I just mean - they all die. Most of ‘em. Most of your babies die.”

“We do not think of them as younglings until one emerges, Sparks Nevada. They are merely potential lives, and they are important as well. It is not about anyone dying, it is about being the one who survives. We begin our lives under onus to them.”

“That’s kinda depressin’.”

“Only because you insist onus is a burden.”

“Ain’t it?”

“Of course not.”

Sparks rolls his eyes and goes back to his breakfast. Croach busies himself in the kitchen for a bit; the time Sparks finishes eating, he’s just sitting on the counter, lookin’ out the window.

“You should go talk to them,” he says, without looking at Sparks. “It is important. You will be their T’us N’xawm, they should bond with you as well.”

“Their what?”

Croach frowns a little. “It does not translate well. When you bound yourself to us as The Red Plains Rider’s superior male, you became a part of the family.”

“Oh. Uncle Sparks.”

“Close enough.”

*

Sparks uses his robot fists to light the way to the nest; even with them and the light of the moons he trips twice before he gets there. He feels stupid enough about talkin’ to a pile of dirt when everyone’s asleep, but waiting for the sun definitely ain’t an option.

“I don’t know why I’m doin’ this,” is all he can think to say when he sits down. “I don’t know what they want from me.”

He pats at the dirt mound, awkwardly, then shakes his head a little, takes off his robot fists, and just rests his hands on it. It’s warm, just a little bit warmer than the ground he’s sittin’ on. The cactoids buzz overhead.

“I don’t really know anything, right now,” he says.

*

“Croach! Nevada! _Croach_!”

Sparks is just back from a scuffle with a pair of troublemakers at the saloon when Red starts shriekin’ somethin’ awful. He leaves Mercury and sprints around to the back.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Croach is just a second behind him, still wearing the dumb gloves he washes dishes with.

“Did something happen, The Red Plains Rider?”

“I think it’s time,” she says, points to the nest, and sure enough, there’s a little hole at the top gettin’ bigger by the second.

“Bagropa.”

Red beams at Croach, who looks a little like he might be sick.

“You alright, there?”

“What if we are not ready?”

Red laughs, high and hysterical. Oh, good, they’re both breakin’ down, this is great timing.

“Hand! Hand! Bagropa, Croach, a hand!” Red grabs at Croach’s arm, frantic, delighted, and there it is, a tiny pale blue hand pokin’ up out of the ground. It’s so little, hard to believe anything that size could dig its way out of anywhere.

A second hand, then, long, scrawny fingers like Croach’s, and then its head, and this is the absolute weirdest thing Sparks has ever seen. It’s got just a little fuzz on top, bright red, and its eyes look almost as big as Croach’s are now, big and weird-lookin’ in a baby-size head.

The baby pulls itself out of the ground, strugglin’ so hard Sparks has to stop himself from leaning over and helping. Croach told him not to. Croach, whose arm is going white where Red’s grabbin’ onto him, who looks like he’s havin’ trouble not helping, too.

“She’s beautiful,” Red whispers, and weird as that red-haired giant-eyed spindly-limbed baby looks, Sparks has to agree. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

She gets herself out of the hole, barely, flops over on the ground, and starts screaming her lungs out. Red laughs again, clear and happy, almost as loud as her new baby girl, and Croach leans over to gently pick her up. She quiets down some when she’s tucked in Croach’s arms, but not much.

“Hello,” he whispers to her, brushes a stray piece of eggshell off her cheek.

“Hi, Ezra,” Red says, and Sparks is about to turn to get Mercury and leave them to their moment when he sees it.

“Uh, guys?”

“Give us a minute, Nevada.”

“You’re gonna wanna see this, I think,” he says, and Red rolls her eyes but looks up at him, lets her eyes follow where he’s pointing to the nest.

There’s another pair of hands stickin’ out.

*

“It is not unheard of,” Barlok the Wise says, like his eyebrows hadn’t nearly shot off his face when Sparks went to fetch him. “But it is indeed unusual.”

“Will he be okay? I mean, he didn’t have to work as hard to get out.”

“He has fine strong lungs,” Barlok says, the biggest understatement of all time. Sparks might get his hearin’ back sometime next year, maybe. “I will have M’lek the Healer visit when he returns from our neighbor tribe. Do not get emotional, G’rop N’go-goth.”

“I’ll try,” she says, sets her jaw even as her arms are tremblin’ a little around her baby. Croach is still holdin’ Ezra, but starin’ down at the other one like he’ll diagnose any current or future problems if he just looks hard enough.

Sparks ain’t worried. That baby comes from Red and Croach, he’ll be able to survive anything.

Barlok finishes his tea and stands to leave. “This has only happened three times in our history,” he says. “It is a sign of a strong union, of special compatibility. You have been blessed by Nah Nohtek.”

Sparks finds himself whispering, “praise Nah Nohtek” right along with Red and Croach, without really thinkin’ about it.

When Barlok leaves, Sparks grabs his hat off the hook by the door and starts out himself.

“Where the Hell do you think you’re going?”

“Errands?”

“What could you possibly have to do right now, Sparks Nevada?”

“Goin’ to see Felton, won’t be long,” he says, and hurries out before they can ask more. He’s gotta stop at the hardware store before it closes.

*

“Twins? Can they even do that?”

“Apparently. Gimme that screwdriver.”

Felton hands him a wrench, then a pair of pliers, then the screwdriver Sparks actually wanted. 

“You ain’t afraid you’re buildin’ this too fast? What if the baby falls out, or the sides fall in, or it gets its head wedged somewhere it ain’t s’posed to, or - “

“I need you to stop,” Sparks says, “and hand me the sandpaper.”

“Sorry. I’m less anxious than I used to be, but not all the way not-anxious like I oughta.”

“Baby steps.”

“Exactly!”

Sparks takes a few steps back and admires his handiwork. It’s rougher than the first one, but not by much, and certainly not bad for two hours’ work when the first took him almost a full two weeks of evening sessions in Felton’s barn.

“You got a cart I can borrow big enough for these?”

Felton, still beamin’ like an idiot like he has been since Sparks told him about the babies, helps him hitch Mercury up to his biggest cart and load the pair of cribs in the back. He even helps Sparks pick up all the stray tools and parts, instead of standin’ around worryin’ about all the ways he might step on a nail. He really is getting better.

“Don’t tell anyone about the babies yet, okay? I ain’t sure how they wanna spread the word.”

“You got it, Marsh - Sparks. Marshal Sparks.”

It’s later than he wanted it to be when he gets home, but Red and Croach are cuddled up on the couch just starin’ at their babies instead of in bed where they oughta be. 

“Ovarth,” Croach says, when he glances up and notices Sparks standin’ in front of ‘em.

“What?”

“His name is Ovarth.”

“Oh. That’s...Martian-y.”

“Nevada.”

“I mean, it’s nice! Good name. You, uh, mind bringin’ ‘em outside for a second?”

Red looks at Croach and shrugs, struggles a bit gettin’ to her feet without any free hands. Croach follows her, more gracefully, and Sparks leads them out the front door.

“You know G’loot babies sleep on the floor in embryonic sacs, right?” Red asks, when she sees the two cribs Sparks spent so much time on.

“I...did not.”

Red laughs, quiet, tryin’ not to disturb the sleeping baby in her arms, then smiles at Sparks. “I - thank you, Nevada, it’s sweet.”

Croach is just staring at the cribs, expressionless. Sparks just spent a whole bunch of his time and energy - includin’ the energy it took to set foot back in the store that used to be his - on this, and if it turns out he just offended Croach and messed everythin’ up again, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“I do not,” Croach starts, but doesn’t finish. He turns to Red and holds Ezra out, expectantly, until she wriggles Ovarth around in her arms and just barely manages to take both of ‘em. Is Croach gonna hit him?

Croach walks up to Sparks, big strides, right up into Sparks’ personal space, and he is definitely about to get punched by an oversensitive Martian.

Or, hugged. Croach sweeps him up in the tightest hug he’s ever been a part of, almost clingin’ to him, mutters, “Thank you, Sparks Nevada,” into Sparks’ shoulder, and doesn’t let go for a real long time.

*

Red looks exhausted, more worn out than he’s ever seen her. Except for maybe that time there was a Jupiter baby feedin’ off her insides. Martian babies ain’t supposed to come two at a time, and even with Sparks trading marshaling and parenting duties with her, she’s about wiped out.

Croach is with ‘em now, tellin’ em stories and getting ready to swaddle them up in embryonic sacs for sleeping. It’s the grossest-cutest thing, and Sparks knows Red likes to listen in and watch Croach be a dad, but he steers her away from the nursery and towards her own bed. If she doesn’t sleep soon she’s likely to just keel over.

“I wanna talk to you,” she says, after he’s done an adequate job pretendin’ he could make her get in bed if she didn’t really want to.

“You should sleep first, probably.”

“Nope.” She props herself up on an elbow, pats the space next to her more and more aggressively until he gives up and sits. “I wouldn’t be able to do this with all my wits about me, I think.”

This can’t be good.

Red starts to sit up, changes her mind and flops down on her back. “I can’t look at you either, I guess.”

“O...kay?”

“I love you, Nevada.”

“Obviously.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m bein’ serious.”

“I am, too! You begged me to move back here and help with your babies, on account of you love me, on account of I’m your family. Or the other way around, I guess.”

Red sighs. “It’s always a little bit weird when it turns out you ain’t being kind of an ass.”

“Thank you.”

“I just mean - look. I love you. Not just, like - not just the way you mean. That’s important, but it ain’t - it ain’t all of it. I don’t know that it exactly matters which way I love you, ‘cause it’s probably just about all the ways you can love a person.”

Croach is chanting to the younglings, that way that always sounds kinda like he’s putting a curse on them but is actually, apparently, a real stupidly adorable Martian lullaby. Sparks can’t possibly react to this if he’s listening to that.

“You need to figure things out with Croach.”

Obviously. “Maybe - it kinda sounds like you need to do that.”

“Croach knows where I stand, Nevada. And I know where he stands. And none of that matters until you figure out where you wanna be standing, when all’s said and done.”

Sparks has spent an awful lot of time, more than he’d ever admit, not thinkin’ about what he thinks she might be gettin’ at, and it’s not overly fair for her to get at it when they’re all exhausted and emotional and she really needs him to figure out where this chat is going so she can sleep.

“Where...where do you think I’m standing?”

“I did all the work of gettin’ you here, Croach did all the work of keepin’ you here, and you wanna put _more_ of this on us?”

“Maybe?”

“Get out, Nevada, I need to sleep.”

*

_I let you idiots sleep in so you’ll be good and rested up for a long chat. The younglings are with Felton. Figure it out or I’ll be cracking your heads together after work._

Sparks doesn’t for a second doubt she will, and he’d hate to scar the babies with a first memory like Mama murderin’ their dad and Uncle Sparks in a particularly violent and bloody fashion, so - it’s just talkin’. He can have a conversation with Croach, especially if he knows exactly what Red wants to come out of this.

Sparks doesn’t - Sparks knows, probably, he just ain’t quite sure how to stop whatever process he set up in his brain however long ago to just redirect certain feelings out of the way when they ain’t convenient. Maybe it ain’t fair of Red to expect him to.

Croach is sittin’ on the kitchen table, watching the hallway like he’s been waiting for Sparks. Maybe he got a threatening note, too.

“The Red Plains Rider told me you wanted to speak with me. And if I do not properly hear you out, she will feed me my own feet until I choke on them.”

“Wow.”

“She has been unusually combative in the morning of late.”

“Yeah, reckon. Still, though.”

“Did you actually wish to speak with me?”

“I mean, I’m bein’ threatened, too.”

Croach just stares at him, expressionless, lookin’ a lot more serene than he sounds. Sparks sighs.

“I don’t _not_ wanna talk, I just ain’t good at it. But I - y’know. I love Red.”

“I know.”

“And I know you know! And it’s not - I don’t not...have...some feelings...that you might designate...something. For. Not just Red, but maybe, like - you know what I mean?”

“Sparks Nevada, you are the singular most frustrating being in the galaxy,” Croach says, and it ain’t that unusual a thing for him to say, but he’s striding into Sparks’ space while he says it, and he’s got this glint in his eye Sparks ain’t sure he’s seen before, and he follows it up by kissing Sparks, hard.

Sparks’ brain rewires itself in an instant, like a dam breakin’, like a flood headin’ for a tribal village setting his whole life in motion. A decade and change, all at once, and his knees buckle.

Croach holds him up, pulls back a little. Sparks chases him a little bit, not ready for more conversation, not ready for less contact.

“Is this acceptable, Sparks Nevada?”

“Yes. Probably. I ain’t - I thought your tribe don’t kiss.”

“Not casually.”

“Right.”

“Do you wish to talk, or do you wish to continue?”

“I basically never wanna talk, so more of this, absolutely.”

For all his stoicism and aversion to casual touch, Croach is surprisingly physical now that this is (finally? _Finally_ ) happening; he surges forward so hard he knocks Sparks’ head against the wall. It’d probably hurt if all Sparks’ nerves weren’t focused so hard on how good Croach feels. 

Croach doesn’t really have lips to speak of, but his exoskeleton is softer where he’s kissin’ Sparks like his life depends on it, and he’s got - oh yeah, he’s got those two tongues. That’s a thing. That’s a _thing_.

He doesn’t tend to wear shirts, or his vests or whatever, around the house, just those low slung pants that hang awful close to parts of him Sparks has used entirely too much energy not paying any attention to, and it’s kinda unfair how Croach has his hands all tangled up in Sparks’ shirt to keep him close but Sparks can’t find purchase on the vaguely slick surface of his back. He clutches as hard as he can, might literally die if he doesn’t, hopes he ain’t hurtin’ Croach at all, at least not in, like, a bad way.

Croach is, as usual, cool to the touch, maybe this time more ‘cause Sparks is burning alive than that whole Martian temperature regulation thing. He’s pinned to the wall pretty good, forgets how strong Croach is sometimes, but his hips have a life of their own, pushin’ back against Croach like they don’t realize how hard the top half is trying to keep him close.

Croach pulls back all of a sudden, keeps his hands in Sparks’ shirt but takes a half-step back to put some air between them. It’s the worst thing he’s ever done to Sparks. 

“What -” he starts, but Croach is looking down, eyes even wider than usual, staring in wonder at - oh damn, at the bulge in Sparks’ pajamas.

“You -” Croach drops one hand, brushes it against Sparks’ cock through the thin fabric, and Sparks says a quick prayer of thanks to whoever’s listening that he doesn’t come right then and there, ‘cause that sort of embarrassment’s liable to ruin all sorts of moods. “You have a phallus.”

“Yes?”

Croach takes his hand away, and that there is the worst thing he’s ever done. “I did not - The Red Plains Rider - I assumed humans did not.”

Croach’s eyes can get real intense when he wants them to, and right now he must want them to pretty bad, since Sparks can almost feel ‘em. He’s starting to catch his breath, get ownership of his brain back, enough to feel just a little awkward backed up against the kitchen wall, flushed and hard and a little bit desperate for something he ain’t supposed to have wanted.

“Could you stop - well don’t just stare at it.”

Croach shakes his head a little, looks up to meet Sparks’ eyes, and he’s smirkin’, which can’t be good.

“Should I look away and designate it ‘gross’, Sparks Nevada? Is that the correct way to deal with sexual curiosity?”

“That ain’t - “ Sparks starts, but if there’s a time to be honest with himself it’s right now, and he ain’t got a leg to stand on in this particular argument, so he just huffs out a laugh. “Whatever. We gonna move this to the bedroom, or what?”

*

Sparks probably shouldn’t’ve judged Croach for staring, ‘cause he’s all of a sudden all thumbs, too distracted by Croach laid out on the bed, naked except for his slippers, flushed purple down his chest. Sparks can just see his egg sacs, where his slit’s spread open a little, inviting. He can’t - he didn’t look before, why didn’t he look, why didn’t he appreciate it?

“The Red Plains Rider prefers to talk before we try something new.”

Croach’s voice snaps him out of it, a little, and what the Hell’s he doin’ with all his clothes on still? He strips, maybe faster than he’s ever done before, climbs on the bed and kisses Croach quiet.

Croach takes the hint, surges up and pushes Sparks onto his back. He ain’t normally one to give up control, but this ain’t normal so he might as well see where it takes him.

Croach wraps his cool hand around Sparks’ cock the same time he breaks the kiss, so there ain’t nothing to muffle the totally dignified noise Sparks makes at the contact. His skin’s buzzing, everywhere, Croach is so cool against him, and his hand...ain’t moving.

“It is smaller than I expected,” Croach says, and the hot flare down Sparks’s spine is probably supposed to be embarrassment but his body’s all mixed up right now and it just feels _good_. He glances down; Croach’s hand covers him almost entirely, and that is just - he can’t even look, it’s too much, he closes his eyes and drops his eyes back and fucks up into Croach’s grip so he’ll just get on with it.

Croach can’t take a hint, he doesn’t move, he doesn’t move, and then there’s this squelching sound that makes his stomach jump - _gross_ , he almost says, but that ain’t what he means, ain’t never been what he means - and Croach’s grip is all of a sudden so slick he isn’t getting any friction.

Sparks clutches at the bed with one hand, Croach with the other, still can’t get a real grip but he can try, plants his feet and fucks up hard, a little frantic with it.

“Croach - I can’t - Jesus, Croach.”

“This is the amount of lubrication The Red Plains Rider has me use when she puts on the artificial phallus,” Croach says, and that is - that is an _image_. Sparks can’t get enough leverage, enough friction, enough anything, and he can’t get the words out to ask for anything different, and it’s good, it’s awesome.

He comes faster than he expects, crashes right over the edge so hard his vision whites out for a second.

“Bagropa.”

Croach lets go before Sparks’ brain starts working again; when it does, Croach is staring at his dripping hand, and Sparks can’t read his face.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“I did not expect that,” he says. “You are so averse to fluids. And I did not - I had not considered you would be like that.”

“You, uh, thought about me?”

“Of course I did,” Croach says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Sparks Nevada has been stupid about a lot of stuff in his life, but he probably topped ‘em all with the Croach situation. Whatever. They’re here now. “I would like for you to fuck me, Sparks Nevada.”

Jesus. “Why don’t you kiss me some more and we’ll see about that.”

*

Sparks is exhausted, and Croach should be, but when Sparks pets idly at the softness around Croach’s slit, just admiring the way Croach shivers, tender, admiring his own handiwork, Croach rolls his hips and Sparks’ fingers just slip inside.

“Yeah?” he asks, tries not to move too much in case Croach didn’t do it on purpose.

“Please,” Croach says, clenches just a bit around Sparks’ fingers. “I prefer it when I am already sensitive.”

Sparks’ cock makes a halfhearted attempt to harden up again, but it’s a lost cause. “This whole dirty talk thing somethin’ Red taught you, or just come natural?”

“I am simply stating my preferences, Sparks Nevada.” 

Croach’s voice has gone a little thin, breathy, and he must be a little tired since he’s just barely working his hips against Sparks’ fingers, not quite as active as the first time Sparks fucked him. Or the second, come to think of it. He’s so soft and slick inside, warmer than his skin but cooler than Sparks’ fingers, and it doesn’t matter how tired Sparks’ arm gets, he could see doing this for the rest of his life if Croach doesn’t wanna stop.

“I know you prefer when I am quiet, Sparks Nevada, but I confess it is difficult to hold back.”

“What? I don’t care if you’re quiet, I just said I liked the way you were talkin’.”

“But you do not like it when I moan.”

“That don’t sound like me.”

Croach huffs, frustrated. “The first time you stimulated my egg sacs, Sparks Nevada, you told me not to.”

The first time Sparks stimulated anything today he was so oversensitive from not waitin’ long enough after coming, and he can’t believe he said anything, much less something that stupid. Except maybe - oh, the first time.

“Like, the first first time?”

“What?”

Croach’s muscles are fluttering, the sensation muffled by the egg sacs that’re squishin’ around Sparks’ fingers, and Red will never let them live it down if he gets Croach off while they’re having a misunderstanding. 

“At the Old Mission, you mean, not, like, the first time today?”

“Obviously.”

Sparks doesn’t laugh, not sure Croach would take it too kindly when he sounds this irritated, wouldn’t appreciate how funny it is that of course Sparks would have him this pissed off and this close to comin’ again all at once. 

“That wasn’t about what I like, Croach, it wasn’t exactly a normal circumstance.” Sparks pushes his fingers in hard, bites at Croach’s neck, and lets Croach feel every inch of the way Sparks smiles against his skin when Croach groans like it’s bein’ torn right out of him. “Be loud,” Sparks says, ignores the protesting muscles in his arm and fucks Croach hard and steady. “Don’t hold anything back.”

“Are you - bagropa.” Croach trails off into some of the prettiest sounds Sparks has ever heard, tenses up all over, and...ejaculates somethin’ purplish all over Sparks’ arm.

“What the - “

Croach’s cheeks flush deep purple. “There is not usually so much. I have been holding that back, as well.”

“Anything else?”

Croach rolls on his side, tucks in close to Sparks. “Nothing I have the energy to demonstrate at this time,” he mumbles, and then he’s asleep.

*

The front door swings open and slams shut before Sparks catches his breath and suggests - for the third time - that maybe they should shower at least a little of the come off.

“Bagropa, it reeks in here.”

“Told you we should’ve showered,” Sparks mumbles against the pillow.

“You also told me you were curious about how my fingers would feel inside of you,” Croach reminds him. Red’s boots are echoing down the hall, and it’s just his luck she’s close enough to hear the way he groans when Croach pulls those fingers out to collapse next to him.

“Did you two talk at all?”

Sparks rolls over on his back so he can see her, which is a good call ‘cause the look on her face is pretty priceless.

“It looks like a crime scene in here.”

“We talked a little, The Red Plains Rider.”

“Mostly other stuff.”

“I can see that, Nevada.”

Sparks tries to look smug, but Red just laughs at him so he probably doesn’t quite manage. It might be a good week or two before he gets full control of all his muscles back.

“Everything’s settled, though?”

“I believe it is.”

Red grins, then, wide and happy, and Sparks would go through anything for that smile, or for the unsettlingly human one Croach aims at her in response.

“Good. I’ll take the young’uns out for dinner, so you two can clean up. And maybe burn the sheets if you can’t get ‘em clean.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sparks and Croach say at the same time, and Red’s laugh echoes down the hall as she leaves.

*

Sparks managed to stay awake long enough to shower and eat a couple of eggs Croach scrambled up, but he ain’t particularly young anymore and can’t quite manage to stay awake much past that. He does manage to make it back to his room and collapse more or less on the bed, but that’s it.

He wakes up alive, so Red must not’ve realized he never got around to washing the sheets. He’s sore everywhere, good sore, the kind that makes you wanna stretch out those muscles, poke those bruises, think back on everything that caused every ache. 

Red was right, though, the bed is pretty gross, so he only indulges for a minute or two before he gets up to wash the sheets. There’s a pillowcase missing; maybe she decided to burn the only thing he wasn’t blockin’ access to.

It’s still dark out, and with the house quiet and the only task he could come up with in progress he’s got room to really think about yesterday, about...everything. His instinct is to freak out, so he should probably do anything but that. His instincts ain’t never done him any favors.

He winds up checkin’ in on Red and Croach, all wrapped up in each other, and discovers the missing pillowcase on Croach’s pillow. Thinkin’ too hard about that makes his freak-out instinct flare up, so he shuts the door and makes his way to the nursery.

The young’uns don’t look at all like fearsome monsters sent from the pits of Hell to test their sanity when they’re sleeping, all cozy in their embryonic sacs tucked in their cribs. He’s never been able to stay skittish in this room for long, so he settles in the rocking chair until it passes.

“Nevada?”

Red shakes him awake, Ezra tucked in one arm. The sun’s shining outside the window, and he can hear Croach in the kitchen.

“That is a surprisingly comfy chair.”

“It’s supposed to be comfy. Take her so I can get Ovarth before he starts screamin’.”

Ezra’s generally pretty happy as long as she’s bein’ held, at least when she ain’t hungry, and she just nestles into Sparks’ arms, warm and grounding. Red does something fiddly with her fingers, so comfortable with her nanotech now, and Ovarth’s embryonic sac kind of slurps back up into his body. He starts fussing right away, quiets down but doesn’t quite stop when Red picks him up. He’ll stop when he eats, maybe, for a few seconds, and then there won’t be a minute’s peace around here until naptime.

Sparks feels foolish for ever thinking he could really leave this.

“How’re you doin’, Nevada?”

The answer, to his surprise, pops into his head right away, but he pauses for a second, wiggles his fingers for Ezra to grab at, tries to look like he’s really thinkin’ on it so Red won’t accuse him of not taking anything seriously.

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Are...that was what you were expecting, right? We didn’t - “

Red laughs a little. “I thought I’d either come home to exactly what I came home to, or you’d be gone and I’d have to track you down and kill you.”

“Fair.”

Red leans over and kisses him, slow and sweet, if not a little awkward since they’ve got a surplus of babies and a shortage of free hands. It’s perfect.

When she pulls back, Croach is standin’ in the doorway, bottle in each hand, that kind of almost-expresionless that means he’s happy, Sparks is pretty sure. Sparks can’t help but laugh, nothing else his body knows how to do with the joy bubblin’ through him. 

It’s awful good to be home.


End file.
